I hadn’t been back since.

I went east, first toward the mountains that ringed the entire Phoenix area, then followed the freeway north into Scottsdale. I took the long route through the city, starting down in the old part of the town near the mall and working my way up toward the larger resorts and newer, more expensive shops. Not much looked familiar and all I could remember was that I’d been there.

That happened a lot with the places I’d gone to help. I rarely remembered the details of the places, too focused on whatever task I was handling to take in the sights and the local ambience. The buildings and street names and faces blended together. I didn’t remember the food or the weather or the stores. They were lost to me and Scottsdale felt exactly the same.

My phone dinged as I drove. Lauren texted me to tell me they’d made it and that she’d call later on. That was good. I hadn’t yet made up my mind as to whether or not I was going to tell her I was in Arizona. Putting it off for a little bit was what I was hoping for.

I found a small Mexican restaurant off Scottsdale Boulevard and parked the car. I still had no plan for Phoenix other than to be there, but I was hungry and tired of sitting in traffic, headed to nowhere. I was halfway through a plate of enchiladas when my phone buzzed again. This time, I picked it up.

“You’re already in Phoenix?” John Anchor asked.

“I am. Been here for maybe an hour.”

“Am I interrupting anything?”

“Not a thing.”

“I have a name and an address for you,” he said. “Not entirely certain what you’ll find, but it may serve as a starting point.

“Hang on a second,” I said. I motioned to my server and asked to borrow a pen. She pulled one from her apron and handed it to me. After I thanked her, I said to Anchor “Okay. I’m ready.”

“Janine Bandencoop,” he said, then recited an address in Mesa.

“What do I need to know?” I asked as I stared at the name and address I’d written on the napkin next to my plate.

“I made a few inquiries,” Anchor explained. “Her name was brought up several times. No real idea of what kind of operation she runs, but her name did come up more than once. Obviously, she’s not in Phoenix, but she’s close enough that I thought we had a match.”

“Right.”

“I have one confirmed case that ties her to trafficking and another that suggests she was involved,” he continued. “The trafficking is, of course, disguised as private adoptions. I trust the information I received. No one could tell me anything as to whether or not she might be tied to a girl with the last name of Tyler who disappeared around the same time Elizabeth did.” He cleared his throat. “It’s not as much as I’d hoped to provide you with, but it seems like a start, especially since you’re already there.”

“Anything I should be worried about in approaching her?” I asked, pushing my plate away, no longer hungry.

“I can’t say for certain,” Anchor answered. “As I said, I wasn’t able to cull a great amount of information. But I’d say based on whom I spoke with and what she apparently is involved with, I’d approach her with caution.” He paused. “I can send someone if you’d like.”

“I’m okay for now,” I said.

“As you wish,” he said. “I’ll keep looking. If I find anything else, I’ll let you know immediately. Likewise, if you learn anything from this woman after your visit with her, please share with me if you think it might provide me with another direction in which I might be able to help.”

It spooked the crap out of me that he spoke like a college professor.

“I will, John,” I said. “And thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied. “Good luck.”

I punched off the phone and laid it on the table next to the napkin, staring at the name and address. Neither rang any bells for me, but I didn’t expect them to. I was just glad I now had something to do in Phoenix.

NINETEEN

I backtracked south of Scottsdale, then east into Mesa, one of the many sprawling suburbs that sprouted during the real estate boom in the Phoenix area. For years, it had been an underpriced market, but when mortgages became easy to come by, the entire region exploded with physical and price growth and the desert suddenly became a cool place to live. When the bubble burst, though, the area, like a lot of others around the country, collapsed. Entire developments went unfinished and abandoned. Retail centers that were promised were never built. Foreclosures skyrocketed. The desert cooled off and left the suburbs with plenty of brand new ghettos.

The GPS in the rental pulled me off the highway and led me through neighborhood after neighborhood of stucco homes and gravel filled front yards. Some streets seemed like normal suburban areas, while others felt deserted and unkempt. Nearly every street had at least one home for sale and many had notices taped to their doors.

I kept driving.

I followed the directions from the GPS until I was in the easternmost area of Mesa, nearly to the foothills of the surrounding mountains. It led me into a cul-de-sac and told me I’d arrived at my destination when I reached the end of the cul-de-sac. The house was nothing out of the ordinary. One story, stucco exterior, gravel and cacti in the front yard. Small red pavers cut through the gravel from the sidewalk to the front door. The street seemed to back up to an open area that led to the foothills.

I pulled to the curb and cut the engine. I stared at the house through the passenger window and wondered if Elizabeth had been brought to the house or if she’d been to Arizona at all. My gut started churning all over again, the same feeling I’d lived with for so long when I’d had no clue where she was.

I stepped out of the car and no sooner had I closed my door that two college-aged young men emerged from the house. Both wore baggy athletic shorts and sleeveless T-shirts advertising a mixed martial arts company. They seemed close in age. One was a little taller than me, one slightly shorter. They both had their hair cut close to the scalp, but the shorter one had left a trail down the middle, some sort of pseudo Mohawk. Neither looked terribly friendly.

“Help you?” the taller one asked, stopping on the sidewalk.

“I’m looking for Janine,” I said.

“She’s not available,” he said, rolling his shoulders, flexing his biceps.

“I’d like to speak with her, please,” I said.

“He just told you no,” the shorter one snarled. “Are you deaf?”

“No,” I said. “I just repeated what I wanted.”

His brow furrowed on his tan forehead and he glanced at the taller one. “He’s a dick, Landon.”

“Easy,” Landon said to him. To me, he repeated, “She’s not available right now.”

“When will she be?” I asked.

He shrugged, flexing the biceps again.

“You both live here with her?” I asked.

Landon didn’t move, but the shorter one nodded.

“She your mother?” I asked.

The shorter one nodded again. This time, though, Landon saw him and frowned at him.

“Why don’t you go back in and tell her Joe Tyler would like to speak to her about Elizabeth Tyler?” I said. “Either one of you will be fine.”

“Mister, I don’t care who you are,” Landon said, stepping off the curb onto the street. “She’s not coming to speak to you.”

“I thought she wasn’t available.”

He smiled, exposing crooked teeth. “Call it what you want.”

“I think I’m gonna go knock,” I said.

The shorter one stepped into the street next to Landon. “Try it.”

I looked from him to Landon. “Sure you don’t wanna tell her I’m here? Before we do this? Because there’s a good chance you won’t be able to speak when we’re done and then I’ll probably just walk inside.”

Landon smiled and shook his head, wiggled his hands at his sides. “Mister, I don’t know…”

I hit him with a hard right cross, then jammed my foot into his knee, pushing the joint in the direction it wasn’t meant to go. He screamed and crumpled to the street. The shorter one jumped at me, but I already had my arm up, waiting on him. I caught him by the throat and shoved him. He stumbled to the side and I did the same thing to his knee that I’d done to Landon’s. He fell backwards to the asphalt. Both were clutching their knees, rolling around like turtles on their shells.